χαραυγή: Daybreak, The Life of Ethan Nakamura
by Candle-tender Yena
Summary: Ethan awakes on Calypso's island, no longer cursed. He was sure he died, but the gods must've instead spared him. How will he live his life? In eternal peace, or as the secret ally in Gigantes war? READ I GUARANTEE THIS STORY ISN'T DISAPPOINTING/BORING
1. Chapter 1: Predestination

Ethan Nakamura was a hundred-per-cent-maginified-a-thousand-times sure he had died. At least by common sense, after being stabbed in the stomach by a ricocheted knife blade he momentarily knew was too deep to even pull out.

He was too stunned when he realized he found opening his eyes was difficult, and was too stunned even when he found himself in a spacious cave where one of its four openings poured orange light. Evening sunlight, he recognized. If he was in the Underworld: a) he should NOT be alone – there were tonnes of other ghosts; b) no place was spacious – everything was traffic, traffic, traffic; c) unless he was abducted, there was _no_ such cave in the Underworld to be presented for any dead demigod, much less a human, and; d) light do not exist in the Underworld. The only source of light was tinder burning on posts.

Unless he was in Elysium.

_Elysium?_

The gods must've gone crazy if they let him fall to Elysium – on top of that, without his conscience.

After a blurry sensing of "long time", Ethan was slowly starting to accept the conclusion he was in Elysium. Where else, would you be dead and yet wake up lying in a very comfortable bed? Isles of Blest – yeah right, he'd eat his grandmother's best Sunday hat.

He was about to lull back to sleep when a girl's voice, clear and refreshing, spoke: "Oh, so soon to sleep again?"

His eyes snapped awake and found a girl peeking into him. She was beautiful.

Surprised at the beauty, he instinctively leapt from the bed. Or at least tried to do so. Instead his back went "CRACK!" and he fell back onto the bed again. He groaned while rolling around, trying his best to ease the abnormal pain in his back. He realized then his whole body ached seriously.

"Oh, don't move so fast, hero," the girl said alarmed, her hands at his back massaging it, "You are not healed completely. Moving too fast would destroy you."

His back to her and his front on the bed, Ethan took a pain glimpse to see the stranger clearer. She was petite, for her age he predicted – sixteen? Or maybe fifteen? – but she had an intelligent feature. Not a daughter of Athena; she showed none of the pompous traits or tongue. Perhaps a daughter of Aphrodite; but she didn't flirt. After some debating Ethan came to a disheartening conclusion she wasn't a demigod. Nevertheless she was still mystical: caramel-coloured hair that fell down naturally, a small smile that too seemed natural to be on her face. A natural feature. She wore a white Greek dress: the type that often was only of robes and showed a girl's shoulders, back and cleavage – whoa. Disgrace to you, Ethan Nakamura. Shut up and concentrate on your back pain like a menace.

Ethan felt a whoosh of relief for not successfully "leaping out" of bed and hit her face in the rough process.

He noticed she was singing magic, and he knew it was magic because: a) it was Greek, and; b) he felt his pain dissolving away. He soon relaxed and was about to slumber again. She chuckle.

"You really must be tired to sleep again, hero," she said, "Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso."


	2. Chapter 2: Warmth

When Ethan woke up completely he felt much better. Except for the fatigue that latched on him.

He had woken up at least two times before. He realized whenever he tried to sit up, a sharp horrible pain shot up from his stomach, and he was forced to slam back into the mattress again. For the first time he accidentally tried to massage his stomach – completely forgetting about the deep wound of the ricochet – and experienced a severe aftermath of pain after that. Before blacking out, the heavy thudding of footsteps were followed by a gasp, and the girl came over, muttering her magic song.

"Don't rub," she said, "that wound was fatal. Even now, unhealed, it is capable of re-opening and kill you again."

When he woke up the second time, no one was there. His stomach area was newly bandaged, with a suspicious smell of cinnamon. This time, he took a good look around.

He nearly got a heart attack when he looked above: it glittered in rainbow colours, as pretty as the kaleidoscope he had when he was small, but much prettier considering they looked more like crystals in ice water than just beads/plastics reflected by mirrors. The cave openings were draped with thin white silk-like curtains, flowing with the gentle breeze that drifted from the outside. A large loom and harp was in one corner of the room. Jars of possibly fruit preserves were stacked on wooden oak shelves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling and the sides of his four-poster bed tester. The smell was grassy yet pleasing. Sadly, Ethan didn't know any of their names except for the milk thistle, thyme, peppermint, basil and aniseed. Oh, and the parsley.

He noticed the fireplace built in one of the cave walls, burning to its heart's content while a pot of water sang (how do pots sing Ethan did not know - he understood kettles, but pots?). Watching the warmth from the hearth, Ethan slowly dozed away while he thought of the possible aromas he could conjure with the bone-warming fire and pot, allowed he could just pluck off some of the dried herbs and – _stop!_ He mentally scolded himself: this isn't his child-time hobbies and errands for Kronos's minions again. Kronos. _Kronos?_

He fell to sleep.

So when he woke up the third time, he was surprised to see that the scene of the room didn't change. Except for maybe the pot was now boiling some soup or gravy instead of water, and that it didn't sing anymore, thank goodness.

But, he thought, it would come in handy if it were to sing when the gravy was done. That way he wouldn't have to worry about burnt bottoms anymore. No more scratching charred, black things from the bottom.

He was more surprised when the girl – Calypso, you dolt – entered the room holding a basket of herbs and whatnots.

"Oh, my zombie's awake," she laughed at his stunned posture, "I am sorry. Usually I do not use modern words. But since I have the chance to learn I might as well try to use them. Are you sure to be awake, sleeper?"

He shook his head. "I am sorry; I think I've misheard you. Modern words?"

She looked at him helplessly. "It would take long to answer your question. Would you like to know, or shall you eat?"

Just like that his stomach growled. The menace. He turned his face away trying to hide the beetroot that it become, while Calypso was laughing. She sounded so angelic.

"I see your strength has returned a little," she said wiping off a tear, "Sit. I will bring the soup over."

She walked out of the room. He clambered to the side, sitting there. He risked standing, managing to do so with the help of a little support from the cave wall. He risked a few steps forward, and stopped. Just then she came back with a dish in her hand.

"You can walk!" she exclaimed, "It is great to see so. Men always have the impatience to stay still."

She headed towards the bubbling pot. Meanwhile, Ethan was staring at the bronze mirror in front of him, its side to him.

She saw this. "Do you wish to take a look for yourself?"

"So it's a mirror, then?" he thought for a while, "No. I-It's okay."

She nodded. "A wise choice. The last hero looked into this mirror and had a shock."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why, because he was so worn out, brave one," she replied, humoured, "Even by my judging, I can tell he has lost a lot of weight he cannot afford to, so long as he needs to fight, much less stand."

Ethan interpreted this long sentence with difficulty. His brain was slowly de-freezing, and it was irritating since understanding took a longer process.

He found himself sitting at the bed edge. She approached with the plate, a small wooden spoon in her hand.

"Eat," she said, "If it is magic you worry, do not so. I never enchant food."

Gratefully, he took the food and small spoon from her. But no sooner she released he nearly dropped the thing. Thank goodness she anticipated this. Calypso soon placed the food on the table beside the bed.

Ethan was about to look up to say thank you, when he noticed a twist in her face. Like she was trying hard not to laugh. Ethan felt a slight pity. "You can laugh," he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"You can l-l-laugh…"

He hung his head in sudden embarrassment. Gods, this was more embarrassing than being laughed at. He quickly sipped the soup, and recoiled just as fast. The taste was simple, but damn - it was delicious.

"It's delicious," he said in awe.

Calypso blushed. "I am happy to hear that."

Ethan tried to smile – he then remembers smiling was so alien to him since he hasn't in years - : "Thank you, Calypso."

If anything, she blushed harder, and turned away.

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><p><strong> How's that! D I intend to update the third chapter maybe a little late, like two months plus. I WILL finish this story - not giving up ever - but here are two chapters in one go. REVIEWS! If you read it, review - flames or cheers, no problem (though of course I would like to avoid flames - but it's for the sake of improvising things). <strong>

**~Candle-tender Yena 2012.1.25**


	3. Chapter 3: Adapt

Ethan regained strength day by day. Each day in Ogygia (he learnt about the place during his stay) gave him the leisure and willpower to heal; he had recovered within something about one week.

During his rehabilitation, Ethan focused on regaining his footings. He practised walking around the room first, which he accomplished with several difficulties such as walking alongside obstacles (namely, the shelves and harp). He thought about walking into one of the doors, but after seeing the kitchen where stoves were cooking pots and fish being fried by themselves…It didn't really scared him then, because he knew and was told by Calypso there were invisible spirits called aurai to do the job…until he saw the flying knife. Okay, he knew it definitely had no intention whatsoever to aim him but the vegetable on the cutting board, but it still sent him darting. He realized it had sped his rehabilitation when he reached the gardens outside.

Soon he became accustomed to the place he was harboured in. The gardens, the meadow, the vineyard, the beach, the sea – everything was splendid. Perhaps, Ethan thought, if Ogygia was the consolation prize to Elysium to him from the gods/Fates, the judgement wasn't so bad after all. He didn't mind at all, not when there was such a panorama, a place where he could enjoy with his leisure…and Calypso.

The thought of her sent Ethan flying away in fright. He knew, and could not deny, she was indeed beautiful since he first met her, but what to think about her sent him into knots. Staying in Ogygia was one thing, but to have Calypso…maybe this mental torture was part of the price to pay for staying here.

"Ethan?" she peeked into his face, which sent him backing away in alarm, "Are you alright?"

Lost at words by the sudden beauty bombshell, Ethan only nodded rather stupidly. She laughed.

"Can I ask you to help me in gardening?" she said.

He shrugged. "Don't hesitate. As a guest here, it is just right you can ask me to do anything. I am in your debt."

For a moment she had a lonely smile, but it disappeared fast enough.

"Then can you hold this bulb for me," she said, handing him a small white bulb. It wasn't even the size of a marble; he could easily lose if he pinched it a bit and send it flying away into the ground without being able to find it.

The place was beginning to darken; the sun was close to setting. They walked to her garden, where the nocturnal plants were waking whilst the diurnal plants closed to sleep. Calypso headed for a small opening between the moonlaces. She dug the earth with her spade.

"May I," she said.

He handed her the bulb. Once it was planted and watered, she stepped back to wait. Ethan held his breathe. Slowly, soft threads were heard, and a small green tendril grew. It sprouted until it bore a small yellow flower on its tip, which glowed harmoniously with its nocturnal brethren as well.

He looked at her, to whom she responded: "Dawn-cradle."

He nodded at this. "Sounds gentle," he complemented, "Nice name."

To his upmost surprise, the plant glowed a little brighter than it was a few seconds ago. She laughed when his jaw dropped. "This baby seems to be happy. Plants can feel, you know."

Ethan wasn't sure how to respond, so he just muttered a "You're welcome" to the small thing. This time, he was sure he hallucinated when the plant flashed brighter a nanosecond in response. He stole a glance to Calypso, who was smiling just as gently to the dawn-cradle. His heart gave a wrenching twist: that smile reminded him so much of his foster mother.

He noticed a dark batch behind the bushes, in the middle of the forest of luminous-plants: a tree-stump, hidden in their faint shadows. It seemed to be burnt, like a lightning had stuck it down and charred it to oblivion except for the roots no higher than his knee.

"Ah," Calypso said when she saw what Ethan was looking at, "that was my other plant, the oak."

Her face twisted in agony. "Lord Hermes brought it to me as a sapling a long time ago, just to let me know the outer world plants. It lived and grew since then – it was as high as the monuments of the gods in the olden days, you know – but an unfortunate storm cam and struck the top. Now it's nothing but a stump of coal."

She sounded so sad Ethan stopped himself just in time from asking when she planted it.

"I've asked my servant to cleave it down," she added, "I have this faint hope that this oak, with the charred top removed, can grow again. Perhaps a sapling would do. As long as I can tend to it again."

They stared at the painful heap of wood. Ethan thought, Maybe, if nothing grows out, this stump could be used as a bench. It would be amazing to sit in the middle of all this.

"Come," Calypso chided, "The night is falling; we should head back."

Ethan stood up and followed her back to the cave. He took another glance behind to see the dawn-cradle: it glow exquisitely bright for such a small bud. A shroud no taller than a grass blade, but protected by the tender tendrils of the moonlaces around it. A light no stronger than any of the tiniest moonlaces or aurorabuds; yet glowed uniquely amongst all that shine.

Such a lovely place –

His thoughts were shut off when Ethan suddenly stumbled in fright and zoomed his way up to the cave, where Calypso was laughing at him tremendously at the entrance. Despite being content, there was one thing Ethan could never get used to: the flying objects all around the places – plates, tools, everything.

Including that axe just now.

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><p><strong>Okay fine. I said three months - but impatience really runs thick in my blood once I finished a chapter. <strong>

**I actually wanted to upload this in future so I wouldn't have to worry the next time I'm late for a deadline (I have one chapter before to spare), but I gave up. **

**So next one will be a delay! No more one month later uploads! College life really toils. (X X)**

**ENJOY! *****************~(- -~)(~- -)~~(- -)~**


	4. Chapter 4: Extra - Digest 1

**Author's note:**

**I must say I am sorry to all who was waiting eagerly for this story! This past year I was chased down the alley of exams just so I can get into University. Well I'm safe now!**

**Hello , and I'm back. This is a short drama, a little digest for the upcoming chapters I'm going to post. Enjoy! ;)**

It was one fine sunny day, and Ethan was humming silently to himself as he walked down the road towards the kitchen – now in another area of the island.

Now? Well it sure wasn't in "another area of the island" yesterday. It was in the same department: the usual cave he "lived" in. Though from what he was told, everything including the kitchen and the rooms had moved to another building – emphasis _"building"_ – just a long walking distance away from the very cave he resided in.

"Moved?" he remembered repeating just fifteen minutes ago, bewildered.

At first, he didn't understand. He was puzzled and asked her why hadn't she mention it before, or why didn't he see it coming (since he woke up to her voice in the cave this morning), but Calypso merely giggled and answered: "It's…new, if I must say. A present."

So still puzzled, he found himself standing in front of the dazzlingly white building basking the bright almost summer-like sunshine. He was awed at the sight. If the front had a small wooden door, then he would have recognized it as a traditional Greek house he learnt from the history textbooks from last time. _Hm? Last time?_

This house was a combination of both ancient Greek and more modern architecture: slightly larger than the usual homes in ancient Greece, it was T-shaped instead of a box, with the bottom of the alphabet being the front of the house. A layer of double doors and gates, large enough to fit a gypsy caravan and still remain spacious, stood in place of the supposedly small wooden door fit for a single person. The ironwork gates were swung open outwards till they touched the walls gapless so it looked like dark-green patterns printed on the white surfaces, whereas the solid wooden doors, its sides cladded with similar iron metal, were swung open inwards to reveal a tunnel to the courtyard. In traditional Greek houses, there was no tunnel to lead the way; the next foot through the door and you're in the courtyard (or so).

The courtyard was rather simple: a ten yard-square space staring into the bright blue sky above while surrounded by too bright enclosures he felt like he was in an open box, but it had the fresh feel of early spring. A simple fountain spouted water in the middle spot, looking rather lonely. Patches of soft brown earth lined the edges of the courtyard here and there, and it was from there that Ethan knew the place was indeed "new" like the word itself. Looking up he could see each windowsill of the second floor had flower boxes filled with the same moist soil, including the top of the tunnel exit. The only visible plant around was a miserably thin and frail-looking pear tree. Despite being weak (the perks of being young), the tree gave bloom to a handful of tiny delicate flowers in its shallow cover of leaves. An altar, still spotless of soot, stood hidden in the pale shadows of the tree beside it.

Beyond, the other three walls had a door each, all left open. From the colors and decors, he knew they were designed to match the iron-green gates outside.

"You can go through any of them," she had said earlier, "but perhaps it will be shortest to use the left door. Walk straight ahead and you'd find the kitchen even without me telling." She had seemed excited.

Struck out of his trance, Ethan did exactly what she said.

So he stepped into the brown soft-clay-like corridors. The first view he came across was the doorframe to a room – a living room, or perhaps an andron, in ancient Greek terms. It was the room for men when they brought in their own men friends to talk or party around, whichever the pick. No women were allowed in this area. Since Calypso was the landlady here, he chucked that thought out of the window and decided it was the opposite, gynaikon: a room only meant for ladies. He took a peek.

Turquoise sofas seated in front of a coffee table. An Arabian-nish carpet was under them. French doors made up most of the barricade up ahead instead of the traditional wall-and-window design, lighting up the entire room with warm natural light. Lamps stood in the corners. Lanterns hung on the ceiling. A footstool peeked from under the curtains. A mini flower vase with one daisy was placed on the end table. Further down the room he saw the floor had risen to a room that looked like the dining area. It looked too casual, like a typical modern home. It couldn't be a gynaikon. He frowned for a nanosecond before shrugging, heading down the corridors.

The place wasn't exactly dark – since the next doorway was already up ahead, flooding lots of light – but he still tensed. _Why are you tense?_

He sighed: he wasn't here for food; he was here to grab the garden basket for the enchantress who was down in the herb garden, picking some of the aromatic plants for the upcoming meals in the day. So in other words he was on an errand, completely crimeless.

Nevertheless he wasn't half-surprised when a knife was aiming for his good eye the moment he stepped into view of the doorway. Instinctively he spun to the right and missed the ornament by an inch from his left cheek, letting the weapon fly out and get stuck in the wall.

Stunned, he slowly straightened up, surveying the room before him. He was slowly getting dark and ominous; he knew when he was threatened. And he wasn't going in without being a threat himself. Surprisingly, no one was there. The only usable window was bolted. The other was impassable with the pots piled under it blocking the way. And on a totally different surprising basis, the kitchen had all the necessary furniture and utensils. A small fireplace was at the furthest corner, the pan on top of it buzzing quietly with life. Jars used for preservation of fruits at another. He took note of the empty baskets piled above the food cabinet.

Then he noticed there was no live fire in the fireplace.

"What?" he blurted out. No pans buzz without fire.

That's when a black thing zapped-cross his view, making him jump a good meter away. His left eye was already doing its work: chasing the object, trying to detect the faintest distortion in the air. He heard a clang, and snapped his head towards it. Nothing. Even the noisy buzzing had suddenly died to silence. Then to his horror, a fork slowly floated in air. Wavering before standing upright; then slanted.

Ethan lowered his hips, taking position of his usual fighting stance. The fork ever so vibrated slightly. Slowly, ever so slowly backing away, his fingers crawled to the nearest weapon near him: the knife in the wall of the corridors. Every cell in his body tingled and told him the buzzing was about to start again. His only eye nearly glowered in activating its power. Fingers curled around the handle.

He eyed the floating fork with unintentional venom, before asking: "Who?"

He yanked the knife from the wall.


	5. Chapter 5: Strength

**A/N: Dear readers,**

**I am so sorry for the long wait. But with the actual story going into a totally different route and life catching up to my heels, it's kind of difficult for me to keep the ideas from falling out of my brain. **

**Nevertheless I love you guys for visiting, so here is another chapter! **

**WARNING: This takes place before the Extra, so don't get mixed up. Sorry for the mess! **

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><p>It wasn't to say he was fully healed. His body still ached all around, not to mention it was stiff too. Sure, he'd rehabilitated by taking small walks in the island. But even a demigod could not recover physically from being near-dead in two weeks.<p>

Two weeks. He was sure he'd spent more than two weeks alive now, but he knew time _felt_ longer in Ogygia. Calypso had said though the island's conditions had improved since a certain encounter (something she wouldn't tell Ethan about clearly; and he wasn't eager to pry either), time flow in the island remained bewitched – now instead of actually _living _a time flow greatly different from the mortal world, the inhabitants only _experience_ an extremely slow time flow. Meaning the feeling of one day here felt much longer than one day in the mortal world.

Meaning, he could do a lot more things in 'a day' too. Sadly, healing took much more than just a lengthy-feeling two weeks.

His rehabilitation still continued. It was always performed outside the cave in the early mornings, since it was the only time Ethan felt. It was the same thing for today. Of course he could have chosen the safe method and do it in the room where he slept, which was always tidied for him. But since Ethan felt uneasy staying under the same roof with a…girl stranger – _fine_, a girl he found pretty – he never stayed in too long. Plus, what good did it do for him to stay indoors? What would help him most is to be active outdoors!

But then his range of activeness was quite limited. The biggest reason why he daren't do much was because of the wound in his stomach. It still had risks of re-opening, and even touching it was a delicate process, which involved him gently placing a hand on the bandages, congratulated by the feeling of the warmth and pulse underneath, almost as if to assure he was alive. Several bone fractures he hadn't noticed before Calypso told him were still healing too. But what really shook him were the numerous scars on – or more like _dents_ in the flesh of – his torso, arm and leg. Again, Calypso told him that she had to extract shards of metal from each of them before applying medication. She verbally admitted that the objects shocked her. What she _didn't_ verbally admit, though, was that she knew what they were and how they came. Ethan knew she knew, judging from the way the enchantress fidgeted in her seat, like if she was debating whether to tell him more or not. He didn't like it that she worried, but he wasn't about to complicate things either.

He sighed. Not having a fixed destination in mind, Ethan let his feet wander to wherever they pleased. It wasn't long before he reached the orchard. Small flowers decorated lush trees. The fountain trickled in peace. Birds chirped in the trees. Rarer still, songs that weren't birds but insects filled the musical intervals. Of all that he could see and hear, Ethan noticed he couldn't determine the names of the birds or insects, or the flowering trees. Then he remembered that the trees here weren't exactly keeping the rule of seasons. Come to think of it, Ogygia itself had no 'literal' season either. …Did that explain why Calypso could harvest plums and yet neither of them felt scorched by the sun?

Huh. That meant Ethan didn't need to worry about the freezing cold on this island. Or the troublesome change of clothes.

He scanned the area again. Within the two weeks he'd come here, he'd explored everywhere he could walk to and come back from. He wondered if he should take things further.

Soon, Ethan was walking down the path that was parallel to the beach's coastline. Instead of hopping off into the sand dunes early like usual, he ventured a little longer along the road, all the while being aware of just how much more he was allowed to increase the distance.

The crisp morning sun baked his skin as he walked. Cool winds lapped at him from everywhere. From his right, the sea waves made roars that resonated well in his chest. Nothing felt this refreshing in life.

Once he deemed that he had come to his limit, Ethan turned around to see his progress.

It wasn't a big deal. He'd just walk half a mile longer than the usual. But whether it was the blissful warmth, or the energetic roars of sea waves, or how small the cave and gardens looked from the distance that caused it, Ethan suddenly felt a rush of joyful thrill. A happy, almost crazy, excitement.

He was suddenly tempted to test his true limits. It wasn't to say his sense were sharpened or something. He'd just felt that he could withstand any challenge with this happy energy in him. With the injuries he had, though, the most he could do was quick dashes; but he wondered if he could run.

Blame energy for madness, he tried it out anyway.

Ethan kicked the path behind him and made a mad sprint forward. A funny sensation in the gut, but he didn't stop yet. He did pay attention to his stomach and made sure he didn't twist his body so that it'd bleed. But he didn't stop running.

Halfway, in the wave of madness, he'd jumped onto the sand dunes that were on his left and ran on it. Running on sand was completely different from running on land, because the legs didn't have much firm footings to kick the body forward or to keep one from falling. So, combining the difficulties of moving forward and staying upright, it used up more of Ethan's energy than he would usually like. Eventually, sweat poured from him face.

Miraculously, he still remained energetic.

It wasn't until he reached the fountain in the middle of the orchard and collapsed in front of it that Ethan thought that it was funny for him to be this happy for long. Also, apart from his whole body burning with ache, his stomach throbbed funny too.

"Ethan! What are you doing?"

Though he still felt the joy, the physical energy to move had left him. Sprawled out like an eagle on the floor it was all he could to do to turn his head to the voice and see the enchantress bewildered by his outcome. He smiled.

"Regaining my strength."

She made a slightly stern face that resembled a pout. "I warned you to not aggravate your injuries!"

He blinked. "About that. I don't exactly feel the pain."

"Nevertheless you may have harmed it!" she said, "What possessed you to exhaust yourself like this?"

He blinked again. "Am I?"

She inclined her head quizzically. "I mean, am I possessed?" he asked, "Because one moment before I started this nonsense I was normal, then the next moment I felt stupidly happy and decided this race to the fountain."

She took her time analyzing his words. The wind blew again, gently fanning the sweat against Ethan. Its coolness made him joyous again. "The wind's nice."

As if that was the clue, her face lit up and Calypso laughed. "I believe it is the wind that has possessed you!"

"Excuse me?"

"Or I should say the 'nature' here delighted you."

Ethan felt like she was speaking a foreign language, which made him unsettled a bit. "So you're saying…the nature magically made me happy?"

It sounded a lot like a fairy tale than Ogygia.

Calypso laughed again. "Ogygia is magical, Ethan. But even without the magical help of Ogygia, nature itself is blessed. I would not be surprised if it was the reason for your cure."

Nature magic sounded like a fairy tale. Nature _healing_ him, though, sounded real. But Ogygia itself was a fairy tale comes true.

Calypso's eyes shone. "Ethan?"

Ethan couldn't stop smiling – but he did manage to stop an embarrassing reply that went "You and this island would be a better nature for me".

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><p><strong>AN: It's sappy, I know. And I know the official story has a TOTALLY different pairing!**

**But I don't care and this will continue! Take note that I might modify the chapters if I see editing is needed.**

**And I'll _try_ to update more soon! DX**


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